


the red thread

by thekardemomme



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Childhood Friends, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 21:50:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13749912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekardemomme/pseuds/thekardemomme
Summary: The two people connected by the red thread are destined lovers, regardless of place, time, or circumstances. This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break.soulmate au: 5 times Even lies + 1 time he doesn’t





	the red thread

**Author's Note:**

> :P
> 
> every time you lie to your soulmate it shows up on their skin

**one.**

Isak is 8 years old when he meets 10 year old Even for the first time. Even had just moved in next door and, whenever Isak was outside playing with his sidewalk chalk, Even would ask to join. They became friends quickly that way, through chalkdust handprints on their jeans and ugly drawings of each other. They wrote each other’s names with a plus sign between them, best friends for now and for always, even when they were old and grey.

They have play dates at Isak’s and sleepovers at Even’s. They pass notes in the halls at school when they can, they open their bedroom windows at night and talk through two empty aluminum cans connected by a red string, they hold hands when they walk to the park to play football together. It’s everything Isak ever wanted in a friend.

It’s during one of their many sleepovers at Even’s that Even, inevitably, asks the question. “How come we can’t ever sleep at your house?” Even asks. They’re 11 and almost 9 now, and there’s melting snow outside from an early March blizzard, and all of the sidewalk chalk drawings had long since been washed away, unable to be replaced until the summer—perhaps the spring, if they’re lucky.

“I don’t know,” Isak admits, turning over in Even’s bed to face him properly.

“Doesn’t she like me?”

Isak nods, “Course she does. That’s why she always gives you more snacks than me when you’re over.” He thinks for a moment. “It’s Pappa who says no, I think. Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Dunno,” Isak repeats. “Maybe he doesn’t like you. But that’s okay, because I like you.” He pulls Even’s duvet up to his chin, burrowing into the soft warmth of his sheets. “We should sleep before your mom gets mad like last time when we talked too much.”

Even nods. “Okay.” But Isak can feel him staring for the next two minutes, can feel those blue eyes burning holes into his skin. “Isak? Are you awake?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think we’ll be friends forever?”

“Yeah. Don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Isak closes his eyes again, tries to go back to sleep. But he can still feel Even’s staring, and now, he’s also tapping his foot, lightly shaking the whole bed. Isak sighs, opening his eyes once more. “Even, don’t you want to go to sleep?”

Even nods vehemently, “Yes!”

There’s a weird prickling sensation on Isak’s wrist, just then. Isak hisses at the feeling—it’s not quite pain, but it doesn’t feel particularly good, either. Even reaches to turn on the lamp beside the bed and, when they both look, they find a small _Yes._ on Isak’s wrist, in Even’s handwriting. Isak tries to rub it off, but it stays, like a tattoo.

Both boys look up at each other with wide eyes, realization in their heads. Like Even’s mother and father, they’re soulmates. Isak’s soulmate is his _best friend_ , how lucky can one boy be?  
They both collapse into giggles, glancing between each other and Isak’s wrist. They don’t sleep much that night.

**two.**

When Isak is 13 and Even is 15, they start talking about high school. Even is starting soon and he’s nervous, nervous about all the new people and the new expectations and the new environment. Isak hates that Even is so scared, and he hates that he can’t be there with him, to comfort him and be there throughout the day. It’s the first time Isak’s really felt the age difference between them; but it doesn’t act as a wedge, really, it just _is_.

They’re sitting on the floor in Isak’s living room, PlayStation controllers discarded as they lean back against the couch and talk. Isak’s always loved how they can talk about anything and everything with each other, without any fear of judgment.

“I think I’m most nervous about girls,” he admits, and Isak tries to fight off a laugh. He doesn’t expect Even to have _any_ trouble with girls. He’s perfectly handsome, Isak thinks. “I mean, none of them will be my soulmate. I wonder what they’ll think when they find out I have a platonic soulmate.”

The words tug on Isak’s heartstrings in a way he didn’t expect them to. He forces himself to keep his emotions in check. “I don’t think they’ll care much,” he whispers. “You don’t have to be soulmates with someone to love them.” _And you don’t have to be in love with your soulmate._

“I guess so. I don’t know, I just… What if they don’t like me?”

“Then they’re missing out.”

“You’re biased.”

“How?”

“You’re my best friend.”

“Yeah,” Isak acknowledges, “and I became your best friend because I met you and realized you’re the best person I’ve ever met. I formed that opinion without any bias. How could I have bias, I didn’t even know you. And now that we’ve been best friends for so long, I know you better than anyone, which means I know exactly how amazing you are, and how lucky anyone would be just to know you.”

Even’s quiet for a long moment. Isak’s kind of worried that he’s given himself away, that he’s spilled a secret he didn’t know he had. But then Even is just nudging his shoulder and laughing in an amused yet shocked way, like he can’t quite believe Isak just said such nice things. Isak can’t really believe it, either.

“I think the same about you, you know.”

Isak fights the urge to ask why. “I should hope so. I am the greatest of all time. The best.”

”Okay, Muhammad Ali.” Even lays down flat on the floor, and Isak follows suit, until they’re both laying on their sides, facing each other. “Don’t you want a girlfriend? Like, when you get to high school?”

Isak shrugs, “Maybe. I don’t really care.” He pokes Even’s chest. “Do _you_ even want a girlfriend? Or are you just trying to fit in?”

“Of course I want a girlfriend.”

A few seconds later, hardly very long at all, there’s an itching not-quite-pain on Isak’s wrist. He looks down to see the letters being etched into his skin like a supernatural tattoo, in Even’s slightly better handwriting. It’s still terrible, but now, Isak can read it without straining his eyes.

_Of course I want a girlfriend._

The two boys make eye contact, a weird nervousness in their irises. “Apparently you’re lying,” Isak whispers, and Even nods.

“So I am.”

**three.**

When Even starts high school at Elvebakken, leaving Isak behind at Grefsen, it’s hard for Isak not to be sad. Even makes all these cool new high school friends who drink and party and smoke all weekend, while Isak is left at his house alone, staring wistfully at the tin can telephone propped up on one of his shelves. He misses the days when he and Even were obsessed with each other, when their lives were entwined around one another, when they couldn’t go more than a day without being together. His feelings concern him sometimes—they’re a bit strong—but he supposes he just misses his best friend.

It’s surprising when Even sneaks into Isak’s room at half three in the morning, reeking of alcohol but not appearing to be drunk. Isak stares at him groggily as he makes his way across the room, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“What?” Isak groans, swiping at his face. “I was sleeping, which you _should_ be doing.”

“I’m going home in a moment, I just needed to talk to you.”

“It couldn’t wait for the morning?”

Even shakes his head. “No. It’s important.” He scoots closer and Isak, a bit alarmed by the urgency, sits up properly. “I was leaving for this party earlier, right? I was getting into the car when I saw these chalk drawings on the sidewalk, must’ve been your sister’s. But it just made me, like, nostalgic. You know? It made me miss you.”

Something hot and bitter cuts through Isak’s heart, makes him roll his eyes and lay back down. “It took some shitty chalk drawings of Rapunzel and Cinderella for you to miss me? Gee, thanks, I feel appreciated.”

“No, it’s not like that,” Even sighs. “Of course I’ve missed you. I just… I didn’t realize, until I saw those drawings, that it was my fault. I didn’t realize I’d been neglecting you in favor of my Bakka friends. And I’m sorry for that, really.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t blame you for wanting to hang out with your friends. It’s fine.”

Even sighs again, scooting even closer. “Isak. Look at me, please.” Isak obliges. “You start high school in a few months. And when you do, you’re going to have so many new friends. And I’m scared that _that_ is what will push us apart. When you go to Nissen and make friends, it’ll be the final wedge that goes between us. I’m scared of losing you, Isak.”

Isak blinks. “Where the hell is this coming from?”

“I kissed a boy tonight,” Even blurts, and Isak’s heart stutters in his chest. “I kissed a boy and it felt good and I don’t know what to think about it because when I kissed him, I thought about you. And I thought of those chalk drawings and that writing on your wrist and about how I’m fucking all of this up and, Isak, I can’t lose you.”

It’s Isak’s turn to scoot forward, then, pulling Even into a tight hug. He realizes the older boy is trembling, and probably not from any cold. “You’re not going to lose me, Even,” he promises, rubbing Even’s back in small circles. “I’m right here. I-I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Even sighs. “Fuck, I’m sorry for springing this on you.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He pulls back, cups Even’s cheeks. “Promise me I won’t lose you.”

Even nods, “I promise.” There’s a familiar ache on Isak’s wrist, but he doesn’t get a chance to think about it, because Even is speaking again. “Can I kiss you?” And that’s all Isak wants in the world, so he nods, and they kiss, and it’s terrible, but also the greatest thing in the world.

Later, when Even is in his own bed and Isak is in his, he flips on a flashlight and aims it at his wrist. Right below the very first lie Even ever told, plus 3 more stupid lies (such as the infamous: _no, I didn’t eat that off the floor,_ that Isak loves reminding Even about), there’s another sentence printed on Isak’s skin.

_I promise._

**four.**

Isak doesn’t remember how the fighting started.

Maybe it started with Even’s bipolar diagnosis, as bad as that sounds. Things got too much for Even and they fought, things got too much for Isak and they fought, things got too much for both of them and they fought. Insults would be flung around them and, occasionally, they’d show up on each other’s wrists. Isak got into a habit of looking at the insults when he needs to hurt, because seeing those things and knowing Even lied to hurt him is the best form of penance.

Even _hates_ when Isak does that. He hates when he catches Isak staring at his wrist and running his fingers over the words. He always stops him, tells him not to do that to himself, presses kisses to the skin. Even has them, too, though. Isak catches him looking sometimes. Catches him reading. Isak never knows what to do.

Today, they’re fighting over just that. Isak had read the words on his wrist again, had gotten his feelings hurt by a particularly nasty one. The actual insult wasn’t that bad, but it was personal, and while it wouldn’t have hurt anyone else, it chilled Isak to the bone.

“It’s clearly a lie, because it showed up! I _lied_ , Isak! We were in a fight and I said something hurtful on purpose. Was that okay? No! But I have those, too.”

“Nothing this nasty,” Isak snaps, pointing to his arm. The lies now almost reach his elbow, and he expects it to fill up soon. “There is nothing I’ve said on your arm that I said that’s _this_ hurtful.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

Even rolls up his sleeve, moving to stand next to Isak so Isak can read the words there. Isak recognizes his handwriting, recognizes the first lie he ever told Even. _Everything’s okay at home, yeah, of course._ But Even’s not pointing to that one. He’s pointing to one that’s ⅔ of the way down the list, bold print and daunting.

_This is only happening because you’re bipolar._

Isak splutters. He remembers that one. It was from their first real fight, right after Even’s diagnosis. He hadn’t meant it the way it sounded, he just meant… It doesn’t matter now. He fucked up, he hurt Even really badly with that one, and his stomach twists with guilt. He puts his hand on Even’s arm, shaking his head.

“I never meant that,” he says seriously. “I’m so sorry, Even. I’m so sorry you have to live with those words on your arm. I’m so sorry I ever thought to lie like that. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Even assures him, lowering his sleeve and pulling Isak into a hug. “That was a hard time for the both of us. Tensions were high. We were scared, confused. I’m sorry, too.”

Isak pulls back. “You know I would never think that, right? You know I would never blame anything on that?”

Even nods, “Yeah, I know, baby.” He turns to Isak’s wrist, presses a kiss. “And I don’t…” He trails off, his eyes going wide. Isak’s own eyes glance down to see the newest addition to his arm, and his heart all but snaps.

_Yeah, I know, baby._

**five.**

The fighting stops, but the tension doesn’t. When Even turns 20 and gets ready to graduate, Isak just a year behind him (after some complications at his old school, before he’d joined Isak at Nissen, he’d had to repeat a year), they stop cuddling when they sleep. They stop kissing all the time. They stop holding hands when they’re not surrounded by their friends. They stop doing things together.

It breaks Isak’s heart. He doesn’t know what pushed them apart, he doesn’t know what changed. He loves Even with all of his heart, can still feel his hand around his heart, probably leaving a chalk handprint, the way he used to when they were younger, and things were easier.

He wants to blame stress. Even’s stressing over exams, and his uni application, and his job. Isak tries to respect that, tries not to push too hard. He throws himself into his studies and tries to support Even that way, by letting him do whatever he needs to do to succeed. Isak wants him to succeed more than he himself wants to succeed.

He can’t help but be scared, though.

It’s 6am, and there’s barely any light filtering through the curtains, but Isak’s wide awake. Even’s next to him, asleep but restless, eyes doing somersaults behind his eyelids. Isak moves over to tuck himself into Even’s side, and he nearly sobs at the way Even’s body wraps himself around Isak in return. It’s been so long since they’ve last held each other without it feeling like an obligation.

“Are you awake?” Isak whispers out.

He’s not expecting the answer he gets. “I am now.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Even’s arm tightens around him, and Isak presses his face into Even’s neck. “I miss you.”

“I’m right here.”

“Yeah.” Even sounds choked up. “I… What’s happening to us, Isak? Where did we go wrong?”

Isak feels tears prickling at his eyes. “I don’t know,” he whispers back. “But we can fix it. Can’t we? We can fix it.” Even doesn’t say anything, just holds Isak closer. Isak’s crying properly now, not hard and not loud, but enough that his soul aches.

“You promised me I wouldn’t lose you, Isak,” Even says then, and Isak nods furiously. _It’s still true, it’s still so true, I’m right here, I’m right here._

“I love you,” Isak cries.

“I love you, too.”

Isak’s suddenly crying from pain instead of from sadness. He sits up, clutching his wrist, sobbing from the pain of it. It’s burning, sharp and jagged, like a carving. Even sits up and tries to hold him, whispers encouragements and sweet nothings to distract him from the pain, but it does nothing. Isak’s in agony until it stops, and even then, he can feel the lingering fire, icy and yet searing.

What he reads on his wrist, though? That hurts worse.

_I love you, too._

**plus one.**

When Isak is 19, in his first year of uni, he makes the decision to stop by Kaffebrenneriet instead of Starbucks on his way to class, because he actually has some time for once. It’s the most boring class of his day, English, and he really doesn’t want to go, but—well, missing his lessons makes him feel like he’s dying, a little bit.

He walks up to the counter with the kind of distractedness only a student on a schedule has, mumbling out his order to the barista and fumbling in his wallet for his card. When he holds it out, the hand that accepts it is familiar, and so is the handwriting on their wrist.

His mouth gapes as he looks up at Even, the man he’s broken up with just a year ago. He hadn’t seen him much at all since then, maybe once or twice in passing, but now…

“Hi, Isak,” Even says nervously. “That’ll be, um…”

Isak just hands his card over. He can’t hear the price over the rushing in his ears, anyway. It’s not until the card is being pressed back into his hand that he remembers to move, skirting out of the way so other patrons can order.

When he’s given his coffee, it’s by Even, who’s taking a seat next to him. Isak sucks in a breath as he accepts the cup. “I hope you don’t mind me joining you for a moment,” Even rushes, and Isak shakes his head. “I just… I was hoping we could talk.”

“About?” Isak asks, his voice cracking embarrassingly. He clears his throat to try and cover it up.

“Um. How have you been? You’re in uni now, right?”

Isak nods. “Yeah. I’m still undecided on my major, so I’m just… taking core classes until I figure it out, I guess.” He clears his throat once again. “You?”

“Still in uni, studying film and directing. I hope you didn’t expect anything else.” He smiles, laughing, and Isak chuckles as well. He’s surprised that it isn’t forced. “I, um. I’ve missed you.”

Isak’s wrist doesn’t burn.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Isak whispers.

Even’s wrist doesn’t burn.

“We could, um… I get off at 7pm, so, if you want, we could meet up tonight? Catch up a bit? I have some wine, or, um—beer. You prefer beer. I have beer at home, if you want to come over. It’s totally okay if you don’t.”

Perhaps against his better judgment, Isak nods. Even looks so relieved, so light and happy, that Isak can’t find it within him to regret it. Maybe they can figure things out this time, maybe it’ll work. There’s got to be a reason the universe crossed their paths again, right? They’re _soulmates_.

“How have you really been, Even?” Isak finds himself asking, to which Even seems taken aback. Isak reaches to touch his hand. “Have you been doing okay?”

Even nods. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve missed the hell out of you, and that sucked. Spending time trying to figure out where we fucked up, where I fell out of love… But I’m okay, otherwise.” He tilts his head, curious. “Why do you ask?”

“Just making sure. It’s important to me, you know.”

Even smiles, almost like he doesn’t mean to. “I hope you’ve been okay, too. You deserve that.” He moves his hand so he’s now holding Isak’s hand too, their fingers laced together. “Do you think we could make this work? Fall in love again? Or is that just wishful thinking?”

“I think it’s too early to tell,” Isak says, honestly. Even nods in understanding. “Things ended pretty badly last time. We need to be friends again before we can consider revisiting that part of us again.” He grins. “I’ll bring some sidewalk chalk.”

“Perfect, I’ve got the tin can telephone,” Even nods, and Isak thinks about how, actually, that telephone is still sitting in his childhood bedroom back home; though the cans are now rusted and the red string together is frayed. He wouldn’t dream of getting rid of it. “I think this is going to work this time. I think we’ve got this.”

“Yeah? You really do?”

“Yeah,” Even nods, “I really do.”

They both glance at their wrists, finding no new additions. Isak doesn’t bother trying to bite back his smile, just squeezes Even’s hand once more. Even squeezes back.

“I’ll see you tonight, then,” Even confirms, standing up so he can go back to work. “Can’t wait.”

“Me neither,” Isak murmurs. And it’s the truth. 

**Author's Note:**

> not beta’d, all mistakes are mine  
> find me on tumblr @femmevilde


End file.
